


Willful Avoidance

by Charlatron



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Rough Sex, Smut, Spanking, snarky bastards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25687540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlatron/pseuds/Charlatron
Summary: A gift for the lovely Schoute (not that you should be rewarded for sending me to rare-pair hell).Story features Schoute's blood mage Roman Hawke and herassociateRaleigh Samson.After reading Schoute & Pika'sMaking The Bird Sing: Samson/Roman Hawke Oneshots, I just had towrite them bangingexplore the relationship for myself.Thank you Schoute for not only allowing me to borrow your girl Roman, but also for your much-appreciated assistance and kind words of encouragement.
Relationships: Female Hawke/Raleigh Samson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	Willful Avoidance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Schoute](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schoute/gifts).



“Stop looking at me,” Roman glowered at the ex-templar beneath her, nostrils flaring as she exhaled in annoyance. 

So what if she had shown up at his dank hovel of a home when he was sleeping, somewhat rudely waking him with her noisy undressing before climbing into bed with him - still didn’t give him any right to look at her like _that_.

Samson huffed, speaking in that same gravely tone that made everything he said sound so unnecessarily _brooding_. “Where would you prefer I look?”

“I don’t care, just stop fucking staring.” She placed a weighted palm on his cheek when he turned away, pressing one side of his face into the lumpy mattress so he couldn’t try to look at her again. Which he definitely would have; infuriating shit that he was.

Sweat dripped down her spine as she bounced vigorously on his cock, the nails of her free hand gauging painful crescents into his chest. Roman closed her eyes, ignoring Samson’s hiss of discomfort as it predictably morphed into a groan of sadistic pleasure and instead focusing on the mind-altering delirium that came from these increasingly frequent encounters. 

_Stop overanalysing and just fucking fuck him_ she mentally berated herself when that obnoxious voice popped into her head again, taunting her with whispers of _feelings_ and other such distasteful profanities.

She shook the unwelcome thoughts from her mind, decidedly abandoning her up and down undulations in favour of grinding up against him as she welcomed the pleasurable pain of his far-reaching cock. She loudly moaned when he tilted his pelvis, seating himself just that little bit deeper and _finally_ her mind quieted.

Samson groaned in that throaty timbre that never failed to fan the flames of her desires, renewing her sense of purpose as she rode him mercilessly towards her peak. “Yes, yes, _fuck!_ ” She threw her head back and blasphemed to the heavens, the proficient roll of her hips devolving into stuttering shudders as she luxuriated in that depressingly fleeting sensation that so exquisitely tuned out the rest of the world.

She was in a state of blind euphoria as Samson flipped her on to her back, every nerve ending in her body singing a blissful tale of rapture as he hilted himself once more. Her petite breasts bounced wildly with the force of his thrusts, the unexpected scrape of his teeth on her nipple the thing that finally roused her back to consciousness.

The fucker was staring again, the weight of his all too familiar gaze a wholly unwelcome assault on her senses. More often than she cared to admit of late, whenever those haunting eyes locked on to her own she began to question the truth of this peculiar arrangement of theirs. Why she didn’t just use some random stranger to sate her desires instead of encouraging this… whatever it was. But since she had less than no desire to unravel that particular thread, she was happy to champion the _willful avoidance_ method.

“Move.” Roman pushed on Samson’s chest until he sat back on his heels, quickly repositioning herself on her hands and knees so she didn’t have to acknowledge that unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach that accompanied his scrutinizing gaze; as though her unwelcome thoughts were an open and somewhat amusing book to him.

She cried out in surprise when he spanked her, the force of it no doubt leaving an angry red welt on her right buttcheek. “Mother fu - _ahh!_ ” she cried out again when he slammed his cock into her, hands fisting in his threadbare sheets as she tried to hold herself steady. 

Samson spanked her again, and again, and again until she had to bite down on her own arm to deny him the satisfaction of hearing her whimper. He pawed at her backside, kneading and squeezing the flesh as he sought his own release. His grip on her hips was insistent, fingers biting painfully into her sensitive skin as he pulled her to meet each hard thrust with a resounding slap of flesh on flesh until she fell forwards onto her chest, spine arching dramatically as she eagerly angled herself for deeper penetration. 

Roman slipped a hand between her thighs, slender fingers tending to that libidinous quiver that heralded a second coming as Samson’s hips hammered forcefully against her rear. She sped up when his rhythm began to falter, victoriously reaching her end with just seconds to spare before he pulled out and emptied his load on to the still burning skin of her abused backside. 

Samson fell on to his back beside her, draping an arm over his face as he attempted to catch his breath. His sweat-slicked chest glistened in the moonlight, the skin over his ribcage pulling taught with each deep breath. Clearly he was undernourished, no doubt choosing his precious dust over food if ever he couldn’t afford both. Should she try to slip him more coin? Was there a way to do so without making him think she cared? Chances were he’d simply blow it all on his addiction anyway.

Roman sat up straight, not at all discreetly wiping the now cold evidence of their frenzied coupling on his sheets. She reflexively flinched away from the featherlight brush of his fingertips against her shoulder blade, immediately vacating his uncomfortable bed to dress in strained silence. 

She stubbornly ignored the urge to look back at him, pulling open what barely passed as a front door before she’d even managed to get both arms in her sleeves, praying to whatever god might be listening that she be fast enough to outrun Samson’s almost guaranteed snark. 

Of course, she wasn’t.

“What, no goodbye kiss?” he mocked, sounding far too pleased with himself.

_Smug fucking cunt_ she thought, casting him a scathing glance over her shoulder to find him comfortably reclining on one elbow. The sheets barely covered his softening cock and she had to dig her fingernails into her palms to repress that split second yearning for something… _more_. 

“Oh, fuck off,” she cantankerously rebuffed, further splintering his already fractured door as she slammed it shut behind her.


End file.
